Lifelines
by indecisive-one
Summary: Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, who remain the property of BBC and Kudos. This is my first story nervous gulp so I'd appreciate critical feedback and maybe encouragement? A one-shot, with different perspectives on a single evening's events.


Molly shifted her position on the couch and waited

Molly shifted her position on the couch and waited. It was one of the days when her mum couldn't see her – the glimpses were becoming less and less frequent, and Molly knew that. That might be a good thing, she thought – she didn't want to cause her mum pain. And anyway, it wasn't like real life, was it? Her mum couldn't touch her, talk to her, or sniff for signs that she'd sneaked out of the bathroom without brushing her teeth. Why did Molly have to wait? She didn't know that yet, but she was patient. Strange, to be so patient: like all the kids she knew, she was constantly being told to keep still, wait a bit, hold on … but here, well, it was different. It felt like when you had your fillings done – the needle, then the numbness. The candles on the cake would keep burning whatever happened: that's just what they did. 'It's all mapped out on your palm', a fortune teller had once said. 'You have a very interesting life-line.'

Next to her, the figure in white waited too. He held out his hand to Molly, but there was no life-line on his palm. She took his hand and smiled at him. His painted smile never changed. That's just how it was.

Alex was pulling the clothes out of her wardrobe and with her head cocked on one side, appraising her choices. She didn't usually bother to change between work and Luigi's but today she had felt that a bit more of an effort was in order, so she had showered, spritzed herself with scent and was now giving some thought to what she should wear. It amused her, and she smiled wryly to herself. It couldn't be anything too obviously 'special' because an elaborate pretence seemed to exist amongst CID that the DCI's birthday should be acknowledged only in the most round-about way. The week before there had been a very secretive collection and a bottle of malt had been purchased and gift-wrapped. Yet the gift could only be given as and when Gene Hunt himself chose to acknowledge the special date, as there had to be no 'girly', 'fairy' fuss attached to the event at all! So far, he'd just barked out that he expected to see them all in Luigi's, singling out Ray for having 'short arms and long pockets' when it came to getting the rounds in. This, she supposed, was the signal for the understated festivities to begin, so she'd slipped away to change. She didn't want to examine her motives for wanting to dress up a little too closely. Didn't want to think it had something to do with the silhouette of a tall, powerful man striding toward her twice as often in her imagination as he did in reality. Of gruff northern vowels, uttering uncompromising statements. And the most piercing, searching gaze she had ever seen. She smiled, but then her curls bounced as she defiantly shook her head at her own reflection in the mirror. Her black dress fitted to perfection and her wide red belt cinched in her slim waistline. Satisfied, she breezed out, turning off the lights as she left.

As Shaz Granger and Chris Skelton crossed the road towards Luigi's, Shaz glanced up at the window of Alex's flat for a second. Her eye had been caught by a small but flickering glow. Smiling, she wondered if Alex hadn't yet left her flat. 'Bet she wants to look nice for the Guv', she thought. 'Pity he'll probably never twig it'. Happy that she had got her man, she gave Chris's arm a little extra squeeze, which he took as a continuation of the highly enjoyable play fight which had made them that little bit later than their colleagues. Squealing, Shaz was chased at high speed into Luigi's, almost colliding with an indignant Ray.

Upstairs the candles on an extremely-chocolatey birthday cake glowed gently. Molly now lay on the floor on her stomach, perfectly happy to be gazing at those candles, calmly considering how perfectly they were reflected in the eyes of the watching clown.

'My round' called out Alex, approaching the bar, 'What's everyone having?' There was an immediate appreciative calling out of requests as Luigi and a young, inexperienced looking barman struggled to make sense of the hub-hub. Alex raised her eyebrows at him sympathetically, and he motioned her to come a little nearer.

'I thank you, Signora, for giving me that little hint about the – er – occasion tonight. You see how it is with me, hey? But this is my nephew, Joey. He's a good boy, he help out.'

'That's O.K. Luigi' smiled Alex. 'But is the – er – occasion public yet?'

'Oh yes, yes, just a few minutes before you came Mr Hunt say to his friends that he had the birthday, and they all cheer him and give him nice gift. Perhaps they should have waited for you, uh?'

'Oh no, no need.' Alex looked over her shoulder and saw her DCI surrounded by well-wishers, and looking more cheerful than she had seen him in weeks. 'I'll just …'. But seeing that Luigi was under pressure with yet more demands, she sat back in her seat at the bar, with the sentence unfinished. Gazing ahead she realised there was a mirror behind the bar, which she hadn't noticed before. It was positioned in such a way that it gave her a great view of Gene Hunt, seated amongst his team and their assorted hangers-on who had come along to swell the numbers. She took the opportunity to study him more closely than she dared to face-to-face. He wore the black shirt he had worn at work, but now the tie had gone completely, along with the jacket. He was leaning back, relaxed, long legs stretched in front of him. She saw his face in profile, and he was listening with a condescending smirk to a long, garbled tale that Chris was telling him. She couldn't hear it distinctly. The tale came to an end, and there was a general outburst of disbelief and cat-calls, as Chris tried to defend himself. Hunt laughed with the rest and then turned to look in her direction. As the seconds passed, she realised he was doing more than looking. He was staring at her. She thought he'd call out 'Bolly' and command her to shift her 'skinny rump' and join him. But he said nothing, sitting in silence. The way the mirror was positioned she was pretty sure he wouldn't see that she was looking at him, so he must just be staring at her back (more precisely, at my 'bony arse', she thought). But his gaze didn't seem to be downward, and as she locked eyes with him in the mirror she felt she was under some kind of spell that she couldn't break. Although there was so much noise around her, she was in a pocket of inner silence, and she felt strangely at peace. A glow began to grow around the edge of the mirror – it looked like tiny flickering candle flames. Then the mirror filled with clown's face, she stood up in alarm, and as the clown screamed 'ALEX' she felt silently to the ground.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs outside the flat brought Molly out of her reverie. She moved to a chair in the corner and waited to see what would happen. Could it finally be time to blow those candles out?

'Bloody 'ell Bols' panted Hunt, part-lowering and part-dropping Alex onto the couch, 'Spent half me life carrying me team, but this is taking it too far.' Then, seeing how pale she still looked, he bent over her and asked more gently, 'Back in the land of the living yet?'

Alex sat up, and smiled weakly at him. 'I'm fine, Gene. Must be the long hours at work – can't even blame the booze can I?' She remembered that she hadn't even taken a sip.

'Yeah, well, I'll put the kettle on,' Hunt replied, sticking his head out from around the kitchen door.

Alex was protesting that he should go back down to Luigi's and enjoy himself, his birthday, no need to spoil it and so on, but her DCI seemed adamant: 'What, miss this opportunity of having you all to meself? Granted, you could be dressed a bit sluttier – what's with the black? It's me birthday not a funeral.'

It was clear he intended to lighten the mood, so Alex responded playfully that she could do with something a bit stronger than tea, and Hunt took this as a hint to break open the birthday whisky, although Alex protested that the present was too good to waste on 'visiting the sick.' It was at that moment that he gave her a deep searching look, and she suddenly felt utterly defenceless. Somewhere within her there was a feeling like a key was being turned. She acquiesced to the drink with a small nod, and they toasted his birthday sitting side by side on the couch, in a companionable silence.

'You know, you're still such a mystery to me Gene,' she ventured after a while. He jutted his chin towards her and made a small hmmph noise, as if this was a natural and satisfactory response to the Gene Genie. 'Seriously, though,' continued Alex, 'I should be able to understand you. You should be playing by my rules – well, it is my fantasy'. Hunt raised his eyebrows at the word 'fantasy' and Alex gave a peal of laughter, and playfully pushed his arm. 'No, I mean, why do you have to be so secretive about your birthday, for example?'

''Spose I'm just not keen on the fuss, Bols. Plus, birthdays are a bit … well, it's a long story.' She opened her eyes wide and gave him an encouraging nod, but he wouldn't continue. 'There's some good birthday traditions, though', he added. Then, after a pause, he looked quickly at her and said more quietly 'Birthday kiss, for instance.'

It wasn't a question. It wasn't said with bravado, yet his voice carried a certain confidence. But for a fraction of a second after he said it he looked down and there was almost terror in his eyes, before he lifted his head and gazed at her with fiery intensity. In his eyes the gleam was like tiny flames, like birthday candles, like sparks of life itself. There was tenderness there too, and longing, and hurt. In a swift movement Alex pulled him closer to her, held her breath for a second, then leaned into him for the kiss; the soft, warm, luxurious kiss, which went on for longer than she had expected and became more urgent, more full of passion and even a little desperate as they let the acknowledgement of how they really felt about each other grow and grow.

As she moved gently away she saw, with absolute certainty, Molly looking at her directly and with great love and happiness. Then Molly said, 'That's it mum, we've blown out the candles' and she blew a kiss for Alex to catch. Alex felt her lips glow, with a new sensation that seemed to mingle Gene's kiss with the feeling of catching Molly's kiss on her lips. Then she saw Molly was with the clown, but that the clown was holding her hand and looking gently at Molly. She turned back to Gene, and started to say 'It's Molly' but then saw that he was also looking at the space where her daughter stood. 'I know', he said. And after he had kissed her again she felt that that was all she needed to know too – for however long this place and time would last.


End file.
